Empathy from Shadows
by Jess Brook
Summary: Sherlock and John fight, leaving Sherlock with a desire for Danger and recklessness he can only find in one place. Hints at Slash/Violence  JimXSherlock
1. Chapter 1

Empathy from Shadows.

Empathy, that's what he said, that I needed to show more empathy for clients. He wouldn't hear my complaints; apparently I should control my excitement and think about other people for a change.

Hypocrite.

The harsh words practically floated out of my Marrakesh pen, even the nib carved with ornate patterns. I had the intense urge to throw the lot across my room and watch it bounce off the wall.

It was his idea anyway 'writing a journal', it would be, he is the _writer_ after all. It wasn't helping, it felt like the words would much rather be scrawled out in a 20 pence Biro than £100's of Diplomat Stainless steel and chrome and I can still feel the simmer of emotion, if anything more so than before.

Why would I want to feel empathy anyone? I questioned mentally tapping my foot across the hard mattress. I wouldn't, it's all so messy; how could anyone imagine entirely what it is like for another person? It must be a physically impossibility, surely between the differences in reactions in the frontal lobe, individual reaction to stimuli and of course our predisposition to lying that a true understanding of another person and there situation might be formed.

John was so irate over it; maybe it was supposed to be one of his subtle hints that are just unbearably subtle and invariably meaningless. Regardless I can at least be honest to myself in knowing empathy is something that cannot apply to me.

How could anyone claim to empathise with me when they can frankly do little more than tie their own shoe laces in the morning? I suppose Mycroft would love to have his crack and he could tell you dime to a dollar what I thought of everything around me, but empathy wouldn't even dream of coming from the stony grey blue eyes.

My phone bleeped dully interrupting my trail of thought.

_**What's gotten my favourite consulting detective all piqued and writing in his secret journal? –JM**_

Where ever the camera was, I would find it and dispose of it tomorrow I vowed silently before typing away my response.

_**Wouldn't you just love to know James? –SH**_

Pressing send I felt entirely sure it was going to be a night where I exist for little more than the entertainment of one James Moriarty. Well I didn't mind at least he wasn't judgemental company.

_**Don't be obvious, I wouldn't ask if I didn't. Was it something Johnny Boy said again? -JM**_

_**What makes you draw those conclusions pray tell? –SH**_

There had always been a certain vitality to Moriarty, a spark that even talking to him from a distance would ignite that smouldering fire of excitement or fear depending on where you sit because with him, everything was a game no matter how serious or beautiful.

_**You only get that angry at two people, and I've not done anything fun today dear. So stop changing the subject. –JM**_

How did he always know? Probably because he was always watching, just so he could prove on the off chance that he knows.

I felt like breaking the rules, doing something wrong and dangerous purely because it felt like it; doing something angry and reckless and fun.

_**I'd love to tell you all about it, how about you send a car so I don't have to type it? -SH**_

Reckless. Fun.

_**Oh Sherlock, darling really that bad? I've sent the car and I'm pouring you something strong. –JM**_

This is what I needed, a game, something different, less _domestic,_ and that was him the man with all the games and danger I could ever need. Quickly I found my coat and pocketing my mobile stepped out into the hall. He was still sat there, apparently less angry now.

"Where are you going?" He asked, the look on his face read something like. I'm sorry, new case? I'd like to help.

"Out." I stepped past him and the telly heading for the stairs, all I could hear in the background was "SHERLOCK!" I didn't much care; I was too intent on getting where I needed to be.

It was cold out, making me dearly thankful I thought to grab my coat before walking out, I wasn't stood outside for long though before my phone went off again.

_**Poor Johnny boy I suppose he deserved it. Cars arrived. –JM **_

That camera really had to go.


	2. Chapter 2

When the car pulled up you'd have thought I was headed towards the palace with the opulence of the black jag I swiftly got into, I'm sure john did the way he was staring out of the window hiding behind the curtain every time I glanced around. The depth of detail in the inside was almost stunning if It wasn't his I don't think there would even be an almost with the black shag carpets and the mahogany trim.

_**You've really pushed the boat out James. –SH**_

The returning bleep came almost immediately

_**I do have nice cars for when they aren't going to get trashed by blood or hostages you know. –JM**_

You could practically read it from between the lines, the pleasure that finally I came to him relishing the thought of games rather than the other way around as these things have usually panned out. I settled in to the deep leather seat, not knowing how long or short the drive was going to be.

_**Oh don't get too comfortable, you're nearly here. I thought it had better be close to home tonight. –JM**_

My eyes caught the hotel at the end of the street, in the dark it didn't look like a den of sin which I'm told counts for something. He was there, waiting outside, the Westwood suit cut just right to flatter him and the shoes matched as well. His smile when he caught my eye in the car was full of devious insanity, and yet the only protection I have was a phone that was if I was frank with myself a bit low on battery. Maybe I am suicidal after all.

The car stopped, he even opened the door for me but I still paused before I got out, who knows how many snipers were training sights on me right now after all.

"What did Johnny boy do to get you here. I'm sure you'd rather be inside yes?" his voice was slightly softer than during any previous encounter as he turned towards the hotel expecting me to follow, and follow I did. I took care to insure my foot landing near exactly in his foot print as we travelled up the stairs in the overly warm building to room 16 just encase he'd laid any sort of traps. Not that he should want me dead just yet, this was his night for celebration after all but I couldn't be too careful in his presence.

He pushed the door open revealing a room he obviously owned, the decor was so lavish and rich you could tell he was trying to make that impression which although cheapening the scene a small quantity didn't ruin it. I could feel the tantalizing adrenaline pumping; even my very body knew he was just liquid danger waiting to happen but I'm not complaining I was finally getting what I really needed for a change.

Just as I kicked the door closed he turned arms spread a little, demonstrating he owned this domain. "What do you think Sherlock, good enough for tonight?" the latter half came with a slightly sarcastic sing song voice.

"It'll do, you said you'd poured me something" I smiled just a little, spotting a dark marble bar behind Jim with two double scotches sat atop it.

"Oh do help yourself, you obviously need it" he strode off to bar, perching on one of the leather covered stool.

I sat on the stool opposite enjoying the way I sunk just a little into the padding, much more as if I were sat on a sofa than at a bar. I slugged the double down whole, awaiting the soft glow of intoxication to hit me.

Jim sipped at his drink before stroking a curl of hair off my face. "What has that ordinary man done to you Holmes?" he whispered into my ear. I didn't know whether it was the waves of intoxication or not but his touch elected tingles where it crossed my skin and his breath on my ear floated a shiver down my spine.

"He asked for the impossible" I whispered in return, facing the man whom I'd fled towards tonight, his eyes like intense fires burning into my soul as he met mine.

"He demanded my, _empathy_." I made a sound hinting at a mixture of disgust and confusion that it pushed to the front.

Jim smiled "So you came to the only non-judgmental company you could think of" he twisted his finger over my knee setting 100 nerves alight with sensations.

"Good choice, now how do we look after the sad detective?"


	3. Chapter 3

His words felt like velvet across my skin, or maybe that was the alcohol well it didn't matter it was just soft, warm and nice.

"You distract him" I said my voice small and my eyes averted.

That was it, I'd admitted it and in doing so practically exposed my wrists and handed him a knife, the question is would he cut me open?

Jim's hand found its way under my chin, forcing me to look up and meet his vast dark eyes the other tried untangling the vast number of curls cascading over my face.

"You're not alone you know. Beasts of the same pride you and me Sherlock; I always know what you're thinking." His voice felt like hunger soothing the burning of his fingers.

I sat forward on my stall, working hard to stay there.

"So what am I thinking?" I dared, finally holding his eye sight as if dropping it would be the death of me.

"You don't know whether I'm going to hurt you or not, more so you don't know if you care after all you did come for the danger. He released my head leaning towards me ear leaving about a centimetre space "But don't worry, I only _really_ hurt people when they beg first" he whispered, before pulling at the lob of my ear with his teeth and pulling back.

It took a lot to keep myself from breathing deeply but I knew a faint red glow had risen to my cheeks in the usual unavoidable manner, taking the blood away from where it is really much more of a requirement.

Between that and the alcohol and the cinnamon coating of his words I succumbed, my arms floating to rest on the stiff fabric of his Westwood where it crossed his perfect hips.

"You have to work very hard to get me to beg James"

His hands went to rest on my shoulders in return, his hands meeting behind my neck.

"Oh I plan on it" he touched the shorter hairs at the base of my neck, sending another shiver down me. I'm not sure if I was imagining it or not but his pupils seemed considerably larger than they usually were, but the lighting was low so maybe it was a dreamy observation.

"Past cure I am, now reason is past care" I whispered, watching James's smile broaden just a touch

"And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;" he returned.

"My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are," I spoke up a little.

"At random from the truth vainly express'd"

"For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,"

"Who art as black as hell, as dark as night" he smiled on the last line savouring the way it touched his lips.

"Sonnet 147, I didn't think you did classics"

I glanced away, holding his eyes was beginning to bore into my soul a little too far for just a evening

"Then you thought wrong."

His head had kept sneaking closer during our little recital and now he was little more than a few inches away, I could feel the heat radiating from the fire that I know burnt within him.

"Liar" his smile tweaked a little before he crossed those few inches.

My heart cut out, everything was still. I was doing this I couldn't back out now because in 100th of a second it'll have happened, I took one last full inhale.

His lips were like magic, the way just the contact sent menthol like fire across me and caused my mind to melt, it was like mind sedative. I wasn't even entirely sure as to what I was meant to do this was a new shade of life I'd never even considered interest in.

He took the lead, pressing his lips hard across mine, pulling softly at my bottom lip just enough to draw that tiniest drop of metallic blood he desired. My breath caught at the slightly sting he'd inflicted before something primal and ancient awakened in me, informing my lips of how to move for the first time.

He set the pace, parting my lips with his tongue; exploring my topography with his probing muscle, as if trying to memorise every square millimetre for future reference. My hands groped around for something to catch hold of, quickly finding holds in James's now rather ruffled hair letting me pull us together stronger than before.

He withdrew, letting me in turn pass his smooth slender lips to find the warm cave within. I'd never felt so _overcome_by my own unruly emotions; the unending desire to rip, bite, tear and destroy weaselled to the front in the presence of such beauty and prowess. I reconnoitred his tongue understanding every twist and fold, ever reflex and motion with detail, enjoying the way his body could enraged mine so easily; entangling it in its own very primitive desires for emotion and endorphins.

His hands tugged lightly at my hair, not intended to cause harm or pain just the bizarre animalistic desire that had overcome us both in tandem. Balancing on the edge of our stools with our hands pawing all over each other is how we spent the next 5 minutes, enjoying the flavour of the drinks on each other's tongues.

I broke away tenderly, evidently not as adept as James at breathing while thinking so hard about things, he chuckled a little bit at my gasping retreat. I supported myself across the bar with my arm lest I faint from lack of the oh so vital gases I needed to survive.

"Distraction enough dear?" his voice was somewhat sing song but with the undertone of a slight pant for oxygen, the thought of him having flaws pleased me too much for words.

"Never." A smile crossed my slightly red lips as the single somewhat taunting word left my mouth.

"Oh Mr Holmes you are such a treat" He grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

My heart felt as if it were trying to complete in the Olympics the way it reacted to his sugary words, quickening intensely as if struggling to pump the little air I'd managed to inhale to its work houses.

"I assume you have somewhere, more comfortable we could continue?" I smiled, I'd finally noticed that the edge of the stool has been cutting into my legs and no doubt a bruise was already forming.

"Not over the bar then?" He pouted slightly before stepping off the stool and pacing with an untouchable elegance towards what I assumed was the master suite, I followed but considerably less steady on my feet.

Inside it was like walking back in time, from the wall paper to the curtain rail it was beautiful Victorian style design with the soft aged patterns. The room was centred with the huge bed dressed in black silk with a large ornately carved mahogany headboard. The surrounding furniture was all crafted in the same beautiful wood with similar carvings making the room truly majestic.

It all looked to punctuate the man who wrinkled those silk sheets, it was all so him dark yet opulent. I'd paused just a moment too long watching him lay gazing at the chandelier; it caused a smirk to arise from his lips.

"You like?" his smirk grew, flinging his arms behind him on the bed with a certain glee.

"Hmm, yes" I grinned laying on my front beside him, letting the silk touch my cheek as I gazed at him.

He rolled onto my back, his let weight pressing my body hard into the mattress. A low groan escaped my lips as he his fingers worked the remaining stubborn tension out of my back though my tight shirt.

"Just… Surrender" his words, an order. My mind said run but my heart disobeyed my brain and chose to obey the voice of liquid gold behind me. This was it, what I wanted that very stupid reckless fun I desired before now it had been safe but now I'd let down those safety guards, somehow I was his.

"That's it" you could hear the success in his voice as he excited left my body for but a moment. The next thing he'd turned me over with the strength no one would ever believe he had. My eyes met his with desire and passion just burning both of us up.

A silence fell over us both when he reached forward from straddling my waist to unbutton my shirt; he did it teasingly not letting himself touch my skin even once. Slowly but surely each button popped open letting the warmth of the air conditioned air to caress my skin where his fingers had refused.

He peeled the tight fitting fabric back revealing the paleness of my untouched skin, the noise his neck made as he cracked it under his suit it was as if I were just enough one of the many tasks he had to 'complete' before the day was up. It made me squirm the understanding of how fragile I must have looked from where he crushed me down onto his bed, at that moment he could have drawn a blade and cut my throat and there would have been nothing I could have done in the slightest to stop it, why was I trusting myself to him like this?

"Shush…" he whispered, trying to cull my movement. "You wouldn't want to spoil this"

As he slipped his suit jacket off, throwing it haphazardly on the floor with his usual disregard for its worth I obeyed his order, making myself still despite the feeling that my heart was visibly pounding outside of my rib cage.

This time it was my turn, I sat up wrapping his legs around my back. He went to speak but I hushed him, touching my finger to his warm lips briefly. I disposed of my own shirt onto the floor before working my fingers into his tie.

The soft material ran easily over my rougher fingers as I gradually undid the knot, if he could tease me I could play that game too.

His hands played around my hip bone as I tormented each button on his shirt into popping open, I was considerably slower than he was easing each button out took at least a minute and you could feel the impatience radiating from every pore on his beautiful skin.

The final one came off with an attractive bursting sound, he shrugged it off, and all sense of the build-up was gone. His face drew into mine as 100 fires started burning inside me, as our noses rested together in that last pause before the main event my heart thudded harshly in my chest cavity.

But he'd stopped, he just rest his head on mine for a while before whispering the words.

"You know what you have to do." He wanted that last prize from my lips, the last strip of myself I hadn't yet bequeathed to him already this evening, the one thing I didn't want to give away but I had to, means to an end.

"Please… James, Distract me." The words burnt their way in my throat but his smile contorted to let me know that was exactly the magic words he wanted to hear, because they meant that tonight in this little battle he'd beaten me.

But he let me have what I needed; his head cocked to the side before crashing our lips together in a tidal storm of everything I'd never experienced. He pushed me back down onto the bed overwhelming his whole bare torso onto mine letting our heat intermingle as I could feel his heart pumping away at the same pitifully rushed pace as mine, proving he wasn't was immune as he'd have let me think.

Everything was on hold in the world when we were together until that moment. The moment he growled at the buzz coming from my pocket before pulling my phone out of it.

"It's Johnny Boy." His face turned sour.


	5. Chapter 5

_/For Anttonia, because despite what I like to believe I need someone whom I trust with everything; I just wish you'd believe me when I say how much you mean./_

He stood up to lean against the wall, topless still clutching my phone all of the ravenous passion had left his features replaced with his usual fairly hard look. He was still and unquestionably striking and honestly I still wanted to dig my nails into his back and feel his in mine.

"This one time Sherlock…" He said as I sat up in his bed to return the eye contact, very aware of my bare skin and oscillating heartbeat.

"This one time you need to go home, because if you don't John will get sulkier then you'll get more sullen and you'll blame me and won't indulge yourself anymore." He said in a stale voice throwing my phone towards me.

I caught it without trying, I came all the way here to find what I needed and at John's first text I was to go home? It probably would be even more confrontational now I'd had this taste of passion without any chance of a release.

"I presume I have no choice?" I asked eyebrow rose softly, knowing the answer before it was even spoken.

"You do, but I might make _threats _so getting dressed and getting into the car pulling up now would be a good idea" He smiled a little, not bothering to go after his own clothes rather he just stood there like a marble sculpture complimenting his own décor.

I flung the shirt over myself, buttoning it hurriedly attempting to conceal my disappointment at the turn of events. It's not like he wasn't right either, but I wasn't sure if John was going to sulk or hit me when I got home.

When I finished he stepped away from the wall pulling me from the bed and whispering into my ear.

"If you ever need distracting again Mr Holmes" he smiled, his warm words caused another smirk to cross my lips.

"And you won't kick me out next time?" I chuckled not waiting for a response as I traced my way out of the attractive apartment.

Just before I closed the door on the suite I heard him call gleefully.

"Only if you miss behave!" in a sing song tone.

I strode down the corridor and along the stairs, still shell shocked. It had all happened so quickly and I'd barely had a moment to think about it, but the feelings he evoked in me they scared me a touch.

He could always hold them against me now; it was certainly stupid and reckless following my impulses here. I stepped outside into the cold air and slid into the open door of the Jag I'd arrived in, shutting it behind me.

I could only hope John wouldn't find out of my weakness, he'd probably stop talking to me or something equally petty. I suppose it was a search for someone like me, someone I could relate to, looking for empathy from shadows.

I finally decided to read the text he'd sent.

_**I'm sorry. –JW**_

That was it, my gut twisted. I didn't even know what it was I felt, I knew I shouldn't have walked out on John it was wrong and petty but James made me feel alive and I needed that.

The car pulled up, this time I opened and slammed it shut after myself. I crept up the stairs, John might well have gone to sleep already then we could just brush over the whole incident. As I pushed open the heavy door of 221B it was evident he hadn't gone to bed, in fact he looked like he'd been waiting.

"Sherlock, about earlier" I took the seat opposite him as he spoke, trepidation in his every word.

"I forgive you, you were right" I said, a certain sullen tone hitting my voice by mistake.

"I'm r- What?" he cut himself off midsentence as he fidgeted around in his seat.

"I said I forgive you." This time with slightly more conviction, yet his face still had a veneer of confusion covering it which was like a wrecking ball, he didn't understand that after all of this I could forgive him?

Silence fell over us for a moment, before John broke it with a soft voice that left room for any response.

"Where did you go?" he asked, face expressionless.

"I can't tell you." I said pulling myself up out of my chair walking towards my room.

"Why this time?" his voice was so blatantly frustrated, but it had to be this way as much as it pained me to let it.

"Because I might need to go back there." I said the former solemnity in my voice once more, stepping behind the door to my room where I could hide away from him once more.

It lay there still on the bed, the journal. I flicked to a blank page and finally spilled the words that would never be allowed to pass my lips for fear of admitting I felt them.


End file.
